“What was it?” I asked. “Some never-seen-before discovery?” Which I said as a joke . . .
He looked up at me with wide-eyed excitement and that smile he reserved just for me and butterflies. And then he nodded. “Yes, Jack. I think it is.”
He turned the laptop around so I could see, and there was a photograph of a small butterfly. The image wasn’t great, but I could see it was pink with a band of black along the outer hindwings. “It’s pink,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk of a pink butterfly.”
Lawson’s excitement was contagious. “Because, technically, there is no such thing.”
“Really?”
He shook his head. “Slight variations of purple and light refractions give the appearance of pink, but no.”
I nodded toward the screen. “Could this be light refractions?”
“Possibly. The photo isn’t great. But where they found the specimen is most interesting.”
“How so?”
“In the end of a cave with no light. And these specimens are in the imago stage. In winter. Connor swore he saw them just two days ago.” Lawson shook his head in wonder. “Jack, that’s not right.”
I grinned at him. A new butterfly. Well, another new butterfly. This was what dreams were made of. “Well, doctor, I do believe we just might need to go check it out.”
“Are you sure your sister and mum don’t mind?” Lawson asked me for the tenth time. We were loading gear into the back of the four-wheel drive while my sister Poppy and my mother stood on the porch with Brennan.
“Lawson, my love,” I said, trying to be patient. “I hadn’t even finished asking if they could please come and look after him and they were already in the car on their way here. Mum left so fast she had to call my dad and tell him he was on his own for four days. That’s how excited she was.”
Lawson almost smiled, but it ended with a sigh. “I just don’t like leaving him.”
“I know. I don’t either. But it’s just four days. He has pre-school for two of those and Poppy has plans for one art-and-craft day and one biscuit-baking day. They will be more than fine. Plus, Rosemary’s here. She’ll watch over him.”
He finally managed a smile at that. “Okay.”
With a final round of hugs and goodbyes, we gave them a wave and made our way down the drive. It’d be a decent four-hour drive, given the drizzly weather. Lawson hadn’t been too keen to go, but given he was more than certain this was a new species of butterfly, his love for the species won out over his dread of hiking and, God-forbid, abseiling.
But me? I couldn’t wait.
Not just the hike and abseiling and seeing the Franklin-Gordon National Park again, but also for four days with Lawson.
Sure, we’d have Connor and two of his team with us. But this was the first time Lawson and I had been away together without Brennan in four years.
And yes, while I would miss our son terribly, he was in very capable hands and I was absolutely down for some one-on-one daddy time. Plus, hiking and butterflies are what we do.
Lawson was quiet for a while, his hands in his lap, and he did that fingertip-squeezing thing he tended to do when he was nervous. When he began to pat down his hair, I knew he was starting to freak out.
I reached over and took his hand, keeping it on his thigh. “Lawson, baby, what’s wrong?”
He blinked and his face twitched a little and he huffed out a few breaths while he was trying to get his thoughts in order. “I hate that you know me so well.”
I snorted. “No you don’t.”
He scowled and rolled his eyes. “This expedition, while very exciting, also involves a considerable hike through difficult terrain and abseiling down a sheer rock cliff face. Not to mention the river systems. They call them the Wild Rivers for a reason.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t need to remind you of the incidents thus far in our expedition career, do I? The bushfire where we both almost got incinerated, the cane-toad-toxicity incident where I almost died, the inland-taipan incident where you almost died, and the ankle incident in the Snowy Mountains.” He shook his head. “I would offer to stay at base camp and allow you to go on my behalf, because I trust you to follow proper collation procedure, but the idea of you going by yourself makes me feel ill. Then if we both go, I fear if something should happen to both of us, leaving Brennan without either of his fathers, I just can’t—”
“Whoa, okay,” I said, squeezing his hand. His anxiety was much higher than I’d first realised. “Lawson, my love. Nothing bad is going to happen. I promise.”
“Please do not promise the outcome of things for which you have no control.”
Well, that was fair enough. You’d think I’d be used to how literal his brain was. “Okay. Your fears are understandable and justified. Sorry I tried to downplay them. The Franklin-Gordon National Park is as wild as it gets. But Lawson, this could very well be the find of your career.”
“The Tillman Copper is the find of my career.”
“Another find of your career,” I amended. “Along with the African White-barred Emperor found in the Northern Territory and the conservation work you’ve done for the Ulysses in Queensland and the Purple Copper in New South Wales.”
He huffed but said nothing.
“From the photographs and details Connor sent you, you’re certain this could be a new species,” I continued. “That’s really big, Lawson. It’s important you do this. What I can promise you is that we’ll be prepared, we’ll be safe, and this will be an incredible experience.”
He sighed and conceded with a nod, though he relaxed a bit if the release of pressure on my hand was anything to go by.
“I just worry, that’s all.”
“I know you do. It’s what makes you a wonderful dad.”
His eyes met mine and his face softened. “You’re a wonderful dad too.”
I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. “Now why don’t you go over the details and tell me everything you’re thinking about this butterfly.”
If there was one thing that could take his mind off any potential dangers or worries, it was the finer details of his work. And truthfully, I could listen to him talk about barometric pressure, the biotic factors, and the non-floral factors and how the fact they were located in a cave made this quite remarkable, but it raised a slew of negative-variable questions, which Lawson spoke about—at length—for the better part of an hour.
“To surmise, it’s all ecological theories until I can see it and study it for myself . . .” He trailed away with a smile. “You know, the way you can manipulate me is as embarrassing as it is endearing.”
I barked out a laugh. “I don’t manipulate anything. I simply know how your very brilliant mind works. And sometimes that means to de-escalate a meltdown, you simply need to follow protocol. Once you see something as just procedural steps and routine, you’re fine.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then blinked. “De-escalate a meltdown?”
Oh, shit.
“Not a meltdown, as such. More of a stress-fest, or if you need a few moments to collect your thoughts and take a breath, that’s all.” I cleared my throat. “Remember when I was endearing just a few seconds ago? That was nice.”